Written by my Mother (Patricia Jones) in 1960
The ripe old age of thirteen years
you have attained today
Here's hoping that good luck and joy
will stay with you always
May happiness attend you
Good health be yours and then
Let courage be your guiding light
to the Fellowship of Men
For tho' you are now just a youth
with all youth's joys and tears
To Man's Estate one day you'll come
In not so many years
So set your sights on targets high
and train your heart and mind
Be brave and thoughtful in all things
and to others always kind
Help those who need a helping hand
And give to those in need
Then you can rest assured my Son
Life will be Full indeed
Monday, October 08, 2007
Moving ~ written 29 April 1979
Such an age I have been here with my wife and my kids
Ten years of our lives have we shared in this home
The fights and the laughter, the tantrums and tears
Our hopes for the future, our ambitions and fears
Parties and friends, family and loved ones have all been
Oh Lord what will happen, will it all start again?
And now we are moving away from Croft Heys
A place where we've spent some beautiful days
We've seen movement of people and the growing of trees
And of children, now taller who were once round my knees
Neighbours who've turned into wonderful friends
Whom I'll always care for until my life ends
Soon, this haven, where we first made our start
Will be a fond memory, locked away in my heart
To be treasured forever like the most precious of pearls
And shared with my family, two boys and three girls
In hope we'll draw closer as time presses on
The perfection I seek is that we'll all be as one
To love one another and share a good life
With friendships progressing and memories to savour
I look forward with sorrow of the path we shall take
But with hope for the future and of what we will make
Of our lives and our living down at Church Lane
Oh Lord give me this happiness all over again.
Ten years of our lives have we shared in this home
The fights and the laughter, the tantrums and tears
Our hopes for the future, our ambitions and fears
Parties and friends, family and loved ones have all been
Oh Lord what will happen, will it all start again?
And now we are moving away from Croft Heys
A place where we've spent some beautiful days
We've seen movement of people and the growing of trees
And of children, now taller who were once round my knees
Neighbours who've turned into wonderful friends
Whom I'll always care for until my life ends
Soon, this haven, where we first made our start
Will be a fond memory, locked away in my heart
To be treasured forever like the most precious of pearls
And shared with my family, two boys and three girls
In hope we'll draw closer as time presses on
The perfection I seek is that we'll all be as one
To love one another and share a good life
With friendships progressing and memories to savour
I look forward with sorrow of the path we shall take
But with hope for the future and of what we will make
Of our lives and our living down at Church Lane
Oh Lord give me this happiness all over again.
Let Me Die A Youngman's Death - Roger McGough
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party
Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides
Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one
Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death
Roger McGough - click on title to go to Roger's web page
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party
Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides
Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one
Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death
Roger McGough - click on title to go to Roger's web page
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Sad Little Lady - written in 1969
Sad little lady sitting in your chair
Sad little lady, who can't go anywhere
Upset little woman, you're life has almost gone
Did any light shine on you
And having shined - shone on?
Oh poor sad lady what can you give this world
With your sadness and your tears
All your troubles now unfurled?
All the blessings that have blessed you
And passing quietly on - what can you do now
To rest your soul upon? My little sad lady
In your dirty purple coat
And your muddy Guinness by your side
My tears for you I cry
My sad little lady, with your lips quietly quivering
As you read the evening news
And I sit across the room - observing in the gloom
Your face and soul and Being
I'm wondering about you
My sad little lady
What's Within you is Without you
All your life.
Memories Were Made Of This
Dresses tapering round the knees
Winters crisp and naked trees...
Memories were made of this,
Of changing homes and fortunes,
Of being loved and loving back
Trains that made incessant chatter,
Billowing clouds and deep blue skies
Pebbled beaches and tuppence ha'penny to spend
Father's motor-bike roaring down the road
Reading Billy the Kid and enjoying it as much as I
Calderstones with the seasons dressed as ladies, ripe
Gypsies offering their wares and your fortune
Made out as ogres who eat small boys
I Spy and Boys Own - standing on bridges
For trains to envelop you in steam and smut.
Falling off bikes and being picked up, seeing
Only legs, not faces till they bent down.
Peering through the hole in the fence into Paradise.
Being kept in the bedroom when the Ratman called
So we wouldn't be poisoned.
Christmas with simplicity, sometimes snow,
Knowing that Jesus really loved you and calling
for Mummy when that shadow in the bedroom
Moved meanacingly near
Collecting rent with Daddy and getting tuppence
From Old men with tired faces and sitting
On the chair keeping quiet.
Standing in the garden, in the snow with sister
For our photograph - Remembering back
Through all those years
Memories Were Made Of This
Being sent away to school - I wondered
If I'd done anything wrong
Crying for my own home and Mummy to hold me close
Of coming home on the train that took forever
Almost
And Daddy big and Mummy warm to welcome me
Eventually a stranger
Of staying with Bryn and Betty and Bob in the pub
Where the barmaid was Sheila, dark and mysterious
Who was always kissing that man - and Bryn and I loved her
That derelict house, which became our palace
The girl we disturbed having a pee in the bushes
Oh sweet memories were made of this!
Halcyon days and those warm summer nights
When we couldn't sleep - that night with Ralph
When we watched the dawn come up and
We felt Holy and close to God and Switzerland
When I was a yob - it was as if I wasn't there.
The football matches on ice hard pitch
The lazy cricket and those headaches that hurt
Falling asleep in meadows and being late back
And being in love with Beryl at home and sometimes Anne
Then slowly / the beauty / of memories
Drifts into the hardness of realities
And I don't know
How lucky I am to be where it's at - Here and
Now in the peace and security of my own home
Watching my children make their own memories
click here >>>>Memories were made of this
written in the 70's - Click above and this is the pub I stayed at on many a week-end between 1957 and 1960
Winters crisp and naked trees...
Memories were made of this,
Of changing homes and fortunes,
Of being loved and loving back
Trains that made incessant chatter,
Billowing clouds and deep blue skies
Pebbled beaches and tuppence ha'penny to spend
Father's motor-bike roaring down the road
Reading Billy the Kid and enjoying it as much as I
Calderstones with the seasons dressed as ladies, ripe
Gypsies offering their wares and your fortune
Made out as ogres who eat small boys
I Spy and Boys Own - standing on bridges
For trains to envelop you in steam and smut.
Falling off bikes and being picked up, seeing
Only legs, not faces till they bent down.
Peering through the hole in the fence into Paradise.
Being kept in the bedroom when the Ratman called
So we wouldn't be poisoned.
Christmas with simplicity, sometimes snow,
Knowing that Jesus really loved you and calling
for Mummy when that shadow in the bedroom
Moved meanacingly near
Collecting rent with Daddy and getting tuppence
From Old men with tired faces and sitting
On the chair keeping quiet.
Standing in the garden, in the snow with sister
For our photograph - Remembering back
Through all those years
Memories Were Made Of This
Being sent away to school - I wondered
If I'd done anything wrong
Crying for my own home and Mummy to hold me close
Of coming home on the train that took forever
Almost
And Daddy big and Mummy warm to welcome me
Eventually a stranger
Of staying with Bryn and Betty and Bob in the pub
Where the barmaid was Sheila, dark and mysterious
Who was always kissing that man - and Bryn and I loved her
That derelict house, which became our palace
The girl we disturbed having a pee in the bushes
Oh sweet memories were made of this!
Halcyon days and those warm summer nights
When we couldn't sleep - that night with Ralph
When we watched the dawn come up and
We felt Holy and close to God and Switzerland
When I was a yob - it was as if I wasn't there.
The football matches on ice hard pitch
The lazy cricket and those headaches that hurt
Falling asleep in meadows and being late back
And being in love with Beryl at home and sometimes Anne
Then slowly / the beauty / of memories
Drifts into the hardness of realities
And I don't know
How lucky I am to be where it's at - Here and
Now in the peace and security of my own home
Watching my children make their own memories
click here >>>>Memories were made of this
written in the 70's - Click above and this is the pub I stayed at on many a week-end between 1957 and 1960
My Space
This is my book
My private space
Where I can climb mountains
And face my disgrace
This is my haven
My Confessor, my Friend
Where things I have written
I can read now and then
Yet not understand
What or why, yet I did
But I wrote it,
I wrote it,
I bloody well did!
I'm not Kipling or Keats
nor Thomas or Blake
Theirs is a Magic
this mortal can't make
I'm a speck, just a morsel
Who squeaks now and then
Just a few of my thoughts
Will spill from a pen
written in the 80's
My private space
Where I can climb mountains
And face my disgrace
This is my haven
My Confessor, my Friend
Where things I have written
I can read now and then
Yet not understand
What or why, yet I did
But I wrote it,
I wrote it,
I bloody well did!
I'm not Kipling or Keats
nor Thomas or Blake
Theirs is a Magic
this mortal can't make
I'm a speck, just a morsel
Who squeaks now and then
Just a few of my thoughts
Will spill from a pen
written in the 80's
In This Room
Sitting here in this room
in another place
Reflecting on life
and how I filled this space
Remembering the times
when I was cruel and unkind
Unearthing the bad aspects
Of me in my mind
And thinking of you
who has filled my life
My lover, my friend,
My wife
I am sorry that I may not be
All I could be
To you or our children
Or even to me
But I tell you this
and I tell it true
There's no one I love
In this world more than you
7th November 2001
in another place
Reflecting on life
and how I filled this space
Remembering the times
when I was cruel and unkind
Unearthing the bad aspects
Of me in my mind
And thinking of you
who has filled my life
My lover, my friend,
My wife
I am sorry that I may not be
All I could be
To you or our children
Or even to me
But I tell you this
and I tell it true
There's no one I love
In this world more than you
7th November 2001
Thursday, October 04, 2007
NEW! QUIZ QUESTIONS
You will notice on the left hand side of the page I have inserted a POLL element to the page. I thought it would be better if I have a little quiz question instead. I will publish the correct answer on the blog in November. Happy guessing!
EVENING CLASSES FOR MEN
EVENING CLASSES FOR MEN - (One of my more popular courses!)
Note: due to the complexity and level of difficulty, each course will accept a maximum of eight participants
The course covers two days, and topics covered in this course include:
DAY ONE
HOW TO FILL ICE CUBE TRAYS
Step by step guide with slide presentation
TOILET ROLLS- DO THEY GROW ON THE HOLDERS?
Roundtable discussion
DIFFERENCES BETWEEN LAUNDRY BASKET & FLOOR
Practicing with hamper (Pictures and graphics)
DISHES & SILVERWARE; DO THEY LEVITATE/FLY TO KITCHEN SINK OR DISHWASHER BY THEMSELVES?
Debate among a panel of experts.
LOSS OF VIRILITY
Losing the remote control to your significant other - Help line and support groups
LEARNING HOW TO FIND THINGS
Starting with looking in the right place instead of turning the house upside down while screaming - Open forum
DAY TWO
EMPTY MILK CARTONS; DO THEY BELONG IN THE FRIDGE OR THE BIN?
Group discussion and role-play
HEALTH WATCH; BRINGING HER FLOWERS IS NOT HARMFUL TO YOUR HEALTH
PowerPoint presentation
REAL MEN ASK FOR DIRECTIONS WHEN LOST
Real life testimonial from the one man who did
IS IT GENETICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO SIT QUIETLY AS SHE PARALLEL PARKS?
Driving simulation
LIVING WITH ADULTS; BASIC DIFFERENCES BETWEEN YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR PARTNER
Online class and role-playing
HOW TO BE THE IDEAL SHOPPING COMPANION
Relaxation exercises, meditation and breathing techniques
REMEMBERING IMPORTANT DATES & CALLING WHEN YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE
Bring your calendar or PDA to class
GETTING OVER IT; LEARNING HOW TO LIVE WITH BEING WRONG ALL THE TIME
Individual counsellors available
Note: due to the complexity and level of difficulty, each course will accept a maximum of eight participants
The course covers two days, and topics covered in this course include:
DAY ONE
HOW TO FILL ICE CUBE TRAYS
Step by step guide with slide presentation
TOILET ROLLS- DO THEY GROW ON THE HOLDERS?
Roundtable discussion
DIFFERENCES BETWEEN LAUNDRY BASKET & FLOOR
Practicing with hamper (Pictures and graphics)
DISHES & SILVERWARE; DO THEY LEVITATE/FLY TO KITCHEN SINK OR DISHWASHER BY THEMSELVES?
Debate among a panel of experts.
LOSS OF VIRILITY
Losing the remote control to your significant other - Help line and support groups
LEARNING HOW TO FIND THINGS
Starting with looking in the right place instead of turning the house upside down while screaming - Open forum
DAY TWO
EMPTY MILK CARTONS; DO THEY BELONG IN THE FRIDGE OR THE BIN?
Group discussion and role-play
HEALTH WATCH; BRINGING HER FLOWERS IS NOT HARMFUL TO YOUR HEALTH
PowerPoint presentation
REAL MEN ASK FOR DIRECTIONS WHEN LOST
Real life testimonial from the one man who did
IS IT GENETICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO SIT QUIETLY AS SHE PARALLEL PARKS?
Driving simulation
LIVING WITH ADULTS; BASIC DIFFERENCES BETWEEN YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR PARTNER
Online class and role-playing
HOW TO BE THE IDEAL SHOPPING COMPANION
Relaxation exercises, meditation and breathing techniques
REMEMBERING IMPORTANT DATES & CALLING WHEN YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE
Bring your calendar or PDA to class
GETTING OVER IT; LEARNING HOW TO LIVE WITH BEING WRONG ALL THE TIME
Individual counsellors available
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Peter Perfect's Birthday Poem - April 1993
He knows who he is!
He's D.I.Y.'d washed up and dried
And fixed that leaking tap
He's mowed the lawn and cut the hedge
And even had a crap
He's read three books on better Bridge
Whilst fixing faulty fuses
He thinks things through so carefully
Excepting when he loses!
Then he's like a lunatic
Wild eyed and don't you dare
As much as question that last card
Keep your head down and Beware!
If Sir is rattled, then look out
He suffers no fool gladly
And because he's fair that includes him
So I suffer when he's playing badly!
But Peter Perfect can't be changed
The years have failed to alter
His quest for reason and fair play
In that he will not falter,
Nor does his mood when in his mind
The balance is not quite right...
"Hey! Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose
Who really gives a shite?
It's playing games and having fun
And learning Bridge together."
"Fuck off! It's not, you stupid prick
It's winning - come whatever!!"
Monday, October 01, 2007
Baby – I Love You And Your Moustache
Baby, it grows on you
That knightly fringe
that adorns your upper lip
Proud, majestic, manly
Curling at the ends,
so arrogant a growth
Twitching,
tense at every move
Like whiskers on a cat
Feeling, knowing – so sure
Baby – I love you
And your moustache
But – couldn’t we see
A specialist
And ask if we
Could remove it
And put it
On a fella
1968
That knightly fringe
that adorns your upper lip
Proud, majestic, manly
Curling at the ends,
so arrogant a growth
Twitching,
tense at every move
Like whiskers on a cat
Feeling, knowing – so sure
Baby – I love you
And your moustache
But – couldn’t we see
A specialist
And ask if we
Could remove it
And put it
On a fella
1968
Sidewalk Blues – or Pavement Paranoia - 1968
The idle faces
of a disinterested human race
Tumble away like spilt evaporated cream
and die slowly in a council grid
Spotty-faced shop girls
with tight tops showing
And goofy uneven teeth
spread in their faces like pebbledash
Gurgle into boutiques
like the last of my bathwater
going down my plug
They struggle into clothes
meant for Twiggy & Shrimp
And without knowing it –
turn themselves into immediate cartoons
But not in colour.
I peep in and see their bottoms.
Shades spits them back out
to create more ugliness on the sidewalk
A road sweeper
accidentally throws one in his cart
And carries on risking his life
in the traffic of Church Street
The man outside Marks
has still got his blades for sale
But the growth on his chin
shows business in blades is bad
Red amber green - amber red amber green –
fatwomen everywhere
Suddenly a familiar face,
but you blink and she’s gone
Disappearing into a gaping doorway –
offering herself
To be financially assaulted in the BHS
Suddenly, as I watch,
everyone’s legs disappear
And hemlines drop like stones
and I feel sad
Women stumble everywhere
with awkward dresses
And faces to match –
but the fatwomen everywhere
Are happy and remember the old days
They rush to the cupboards
and pull out their drawers
And suddenly again
become stupid with the rest
of a disinterested human race
Tumble away like spilt evaporated cream
and die slowly in a council grid
Spotty-faced shop girls
with tight tops showing
And goofy uneven teeth
spread in their faces like pebbledash
Gurgle into boutiques
like the last of my bathwater
going down my plug
They struggle into clothes
meant for Twiggy & Shrimp
And without knowing it –
turn themselves into immediate cartoons
But not in colour.
I peep in and see their bottoms.
Shades spits them back out
to create more ugliness on the sidewalk
A road sweeper
accidentally throws one in his cart
And carries on risking his life
in the traffic of Church Street
The man outside Marks
has still got his blades for sale
But the growth on his chin
shows business in blades is bad
Red amber green - amber red amber green –
fatwomen everywhere
Suddenly a familiar face,
but you blink and she’s gone
Disappearing into a gaping doorway –
offering herself
To be financially assaulted in the BHS
Suddenly, as I watch,
everyone’s legs disappear
And hemlines drop like stones
and I feel sad
Women stumble everywhere
with awkward dresses
And faces to match –
but the fatwomen everywhere
Are happy and remember the old days
They rush to the cupboards
and pull out their drawers
And suddenly again
become stupid with the rest
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